Mother knows best
by xdcfvghnjmkl
Summary: Other Wybeie decides Mother is right. It /is/ better in the Other World, Coraline just doesn't know it yet. Movieverse.


**A/N**: First Coraline fic. Saw the movie, decided I had to write something short for it. I imagine Wybie being created and coaxed into the beldams plan— after all, she can come off as pretty sweet and caring. I believe at first honestly doesn't know he's tricking Coraline, and only believes he's doing what's best for her. Anyway, this is my take on his creation. This hasn't been beta'd— If you'd like to help, just let me know. I could always use a hand.

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It began, for Wybie, in the dark; with a musty, wood-like smell in his nostrils that he couldn't quite place. It took him a moment to realise he was_ seeing_, and what he was seeing was rather curious. He thought he saw something catch the light, and in that foggy moment where he felt his limbs come to life and the breath rush into him, he found himself staring up into the face of an angel, her shiny button eyes gleaming in delight. Something within him stirred; he knew no words for this face, for this feeling. His chest tightened.

'Hello, Wybie,' she said to him. Her voice was sweet, like honey.

_Wybie_, he repeated mentally. He knew it was his name, but something told him he'd heard it somewhere before. When and where, however, he did not know.

'Do you know who I am?'

_"Mother,"_ his mind supplied him. He felt himself nod.

She smiled at him— a warm, loving smile.

Wybie felt something sharp nip at his sides; felt fingers, sharp and cold, lift him into the air. She studied him silently, admiring her handiwork.

His feet touched the ground a moment later, his knees flexing and becoming familiar with holding his weight for the first time. His vision left his boots and gloved hands, wrung together anxiously. It dawned on him, suddenly, who he was. Rather, whom he was made to resemble.

He looked up at her, his head cocked to the side.

'I made you,' she explained. 'For Coraline.'

_Coraline._

He knew that name. He could picture her face clearly, despite being "born" only moments ago. He watched her ruby red lips curl up into a smile, and was startled to suddenly realise he was unable to speak. He gently touched his mouth, then, his fingers running over the bumps of thread he knew held them together. He looked up at her, as if to ask, _Why?_

Mother squeezed his shoulders comfortingly. 'You're better this way,' she assured him.

Better? The word seemed foreign to him. How could he be better than the real Wybie? He was a copy, wasn't he? But then —no, he could remember something— he could remember talking, laughing. He didn't think himself similar to the real Wybie, in the sense that his mind didn't race and bubble over with questions and thoughts. In fact, he felt himself rather dull. Empty, almost. So, he wasn't exactly like the other Wybie. There was something unique about him. He liked that. But would Coraline? Mother seemed to think so. She said the real Wybie spoke too much, and that Coraline often became annoyed with him.

'Coraline is a very sweet, very special little girl. Her other parents don't have time for her,' Mother said, jutting her lower lip out. 'They're mean to her, and don't pay any attention to her. They take her for granted.'

Wybie frowned.

'Ah-ah,' Mother warned, gently forcing his mouth into a smile with her two index fingers. It almost hurt, but he didn't try to stop her. 'We mustn't frown. We want to make Coraline feel _welcome._ We want her to stay with us, forever. We want her to be happy.'

Wybie smiled— this time without her assistance, even though the sides of his mouth hurt from her forcing them up.

Coraline was a special girl. He felt like he already knew her. He supposed that maybe, these thoughts and feelings were transferred over from the real Wybie. All the better, he decided. The more he knew about her, the easier it would be to help her make up her mind to stay here, with him, and with Mother.

'It's better here. Mother knows best.'

Wybie nodded his head.

'After dinner, I want you to take Coraline upstairs to see the jumping mice perform. Make sure she has a good time. And remember,' she ran her fingers through his curly hair —and perhaps he only imagined the sudden bite to her voice, and her fingers gripping his hair so tightly— 'Smile. Go on now,' she giggled.

He hurried along, not quite running, but not really walking, either, not really knowing where he was headed. He hoped Coraline would be every bit as wonderful as Mother made her seem. Mother was so kind and caring. She wanted only what was best for Coraline; and for him. He decided Mother was right. It _was _better here. Coraline just didn't know it yet.

After all, he thought, what mother_ wouldn't _want what was best for their child?


End file.
